


Odd One Out

by summoner_yuna_of_besaid



Series: Best Destinies [14]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M, Space Seed, The Devil in the Dark, This Side of Paradise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-24
Updated: 2013-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-09 08:43:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/772265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summoner_yuna_of_besaid/pseuds/summoner_yuna_of_besaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim swallowed, cheeks redder than apples, before he revealed a big smile.  "I love you."</p>
<p>Spock's eyes widened, his nostrils flared, and the ghost of a smile appeared on his face.  He didn't say the words - didn't need to.  They were clear in his face, his eyes, in every line of his body, angled toward Kirk and standing so closely to him.  The gravity they'd been fighting finally won - and they fell together, and kissed.</p>
<p>That finally snapped McCoy out of his hypnosis, and he turned and fled, trying to be as quiet as he could but not trying very hard.  He ran in an empty daze through the halls to the med bay, stumbled in drunkenly, looking for all the world like a lost soul, a dying man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Odd One Out

Here for his envy, will not drive us hence:  
Here we may reign secure; and, in my choice,   
To reign is worth ambition, though in Hell:   
Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven. 

Jim read the lines one more time before finally allowing the book to fall shut. The cover was ornate, many years old, and read “Paradise Lost”. He looked over the title for a moment before shelving it again.

It hadn’t ever been a favorite of his. As far as poetical works went, Dante was much more interesting. But it was a classic, a staple of human history, and so he’d hung onto it. Suddenly it had a new kind of relevance in his life, and Jim wasn’t sure if that made it more important to keep, or if he wanted to chuck it out of the nearest airlock.

Most missions were dangerous. Plenty of them had cost lives, and quite a few had put some of the most precious people in his life in incredible danger. Though it caused a deep ache he could not suppress, Jim powered through, recognizing that it was the nature of the job, that he’d done the best he could, that somehow, miraculously, they’d come through again.

So what was different about this mission, about Khan, that he couldn’t just let go?

Jim glanced back at the book on the shelf while he began to pace. 

This time, it had been on his own ship. One of his own men had betrayed him. A ghost of humanity’s past, another human being, had been the enemy, not some unknown alien life force or Klingon warrior. It had been a human, on his ship, attacking his people.

Khan’s image came to mind in the Captain’s eyes and he felt his fists tightening. Had he done the right thing, letting that man go? He wasn’t sure, but Jim couldn’t imagine locking the man up. That kind of charisma, magnetism, leadership ability, lost to a jail cell? He just couldn’t do it. It would probably come back to haunt him, but the truth was, something in Jim admired the man. Locking him away seemed like a disgrace.

Even as he paced, his mind never drifted far from his greatest concerns: his dearest, closest companions, who he’d come so close to losing. He’d almost died and left them; they could have easily been taken from him, killed by Khan or his men, and Jim wouldn’t have been able to do a thing to stop it. Even Vulcan strength was no match for that superman. The thought of just how close it had been vibrated beneath Kirk’s skin, drove him mad, and with every breath he wanted to run to those two men and make sure they really were all right.

He refrained; forced himself to stay in his quarters, to think of anything else, not to bother them with his overdue concern. This was what love did to a person. Drove them out of their reasonable mind, made them act irrationally. Spock would tell him that his overwhelming need to see him, to know with his senses that he was alive, was illogical; Bones might understand, but was currently so overworked with injuries and casualties from the mission he’d just tell Jim to scram.

No, he wasn’t going to bother them. He was going to calm down, let this go, and move on with his life.

With a sigh, he paced into his bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed, hands running through his hair. Usually, on a night like this, he’d find a partner to charm and woo, wile away the hours with. It was a good distraction. But that would hardly be appropriate on the ship and they were not due for shore leave for some time. Fists clenched, Kirk let out a tense sigh and lowered his head. 

Closing his eyes, he saw Khan’s face, so confident, so self assured. Flashes of the day’s events flew through his head.

On the bridge with Spock, listening to him ask why Jim took so much pleasure out of seeing him being proven wrong. An illogical human weakness of mine, Mr. Spock, he’d said. Just to watch those eyebrows twitch, as they always did when he teased Spock. If he’d only known just how much trouble human weaknesses would get them into.

Standing with Bones in the transporter room, taking a turn at teasing the doctor. “An old fashioned boy,” he’d called Bones. It was true, and one of the man’s more endearing qualities, his Georgian manners and southern drawl. 

Standing in the decompression chamber. The pain, the terror. Death was always something Jim fought, something he ran from, whether he was being bombarded by weapon fire or chased by vicious alien life forms, there was always a way to fight. In a way it was as if his own survival was in his hands, that his fighting back was a means of taking control of his destiny. 

There was no fighting in the chamber, no way to run. Completely at the mercy of a machine, of the man in control of it. Out of control. Out of time. Only able to think of lost chances, lost futures, of the only two people in the universe who really knew him and gave a damn about him.

Then, suddenly, miraculously, he was free. Alive. And Spock - Spock was there.

I’m surprised to see you, Captain, though pleased.

Pleased. An actual emotion. Openly admitted to, freely felt, in reference to him. Because Jim was alive! If they hadn’t been in an ever more perilous mission he might’ve kissed the man right there. Pleasure because he was alive... from a Vulcan like Spock that was practically a declaration of love.

The thought left him tingling all over and light-headed like a kid first falling in love. It was ridiculous, but he couldn’t help it: Bones and Spock, they made him foolish, acting like a teenage boy again.

Which was why he was currently like this, unconsolable, driven mad by the thought that once again he’d come so close to losing them! That they might’ve died without ever knowing... how many times had he thought that? How many times had they been in the middle of a dangerous mission that had left Kirk wondering, why didn’t I ever say anything?

The truth was, he wasn’t afraid of losing them. He was afraid of never having them - of never sharing that closeness he was so afraid of, yet so desperately wanted.

-=-=-=-=-=--=-=-=-=-

Spock was off duty, and ensconced in an experiment in one of his laboratories. Hard at work, eyes never lifting from the equipment, he spoke.

“Computer, locations of Captain Kirk and Doctor McCoy.”

“Captain Kirk is in his quarters. Doctor McCoy is in med bay.”

“Life signs?”

“Life signs normal.”

Spock did not sigh, though his eyes did widen slightly, though his expression was still stern, with a touch of anxiety about it. It was the fourth time he had asked the question in the last hour. It was... logical, to repeatedly make an inquiry over a period of time. It was quite possible the answer could change, given the dangerous natures of their lives.

He returned his attention back to the experiment, attempting to distract himself from greater concerns. It was difficult to do so, since it was a simple experiment any ensign could have performed, and there were no greater challenges currently available. Spock was left with his churning thoughts, which weighed down upon him heavily.

It was a prominent aspect of Vulcan philosophy, the idea that all lives were precious, that life should be saved when it can. Despite this, Spock found himself despairing of the continued life of Khan, their adversary, and had half considered appealing to the Captain to change his mind.

Khan was a ruthless, powerful man with a potent intellect and a long memory. Spock could not help but fear that, one day, he might find a way to retaliate for this defeat. Logically Spock knew that once he was marooned on his new home planet it was unlikely he would ever be heard from again. But logic would not serve him this time: no matter how he reasoned it, the fear that he might seek revenge against the Captain would not abate. 

No matter, he finally decided. If Khan ever sought to hurt Jim again, Spock would be there, and he would do everything and anything necessary to stop him.

“Computer, locations of Captain Kirk and Doctor McCoy.”

“Captain Kirk is in Commander Spock’s quarters and Doctor McCoy is in his office.”

Spock startled a bit, head lifting, and turned his eyes upward. Jim was in his room? He set about putting the experiment to rest, then turned for the door. Was the Captain looking for him? He took the lift to his level and took a few steps down the hall when he saw Jim come out the other hallway.

“Captain.”

His friend glanced up at his title, and smiled. The purely joyous expression sent Spock’s heart fluttering in his side. Jim met him halfway down the hall. “Spock.”

“Were you searching for me Captain?”

“Yes, I - I’d liked to talk to you.” The man’s cheeks were flushed to his ears in an endearing show of shyness, his eyes averted to Spock’s shoulder. If he could, Spock would have smiled at the sight, even as it brought color to his own cheeks. Kirk nodded to the door nearest them, and Spock followed him inside.

It was a small room with a few benches, tables, and chairs, with a large panorama of the space outside. Kirk approached the window, wringing his hands in front of him, nervous energy crackling beneath his skin. Spock stayed where he was. He contemplated having the computer raise the lights, but thought perhaps the Captain left the room dimly lit for a reason. He waited.

"Just a moment." The Captain stated quickly before approaching an intercom. "Captain to med bay."

"Sir?"

"Tell Dr. McCoy to meet me on deck seven in the lounge."

"Dr. McCoy is currently in surgery."

A frustrated expression came over the captain's face. "When will he be off duty?"

"Not for many hours, sir."

"All, right, forget it." Grumbling, Jim shut off the connection and stalked away, towards the window.

"Captain?"

"Nothing, it's just... I thought it might be better to talk to both of you. Or maybe it's better this way?"

"Since I do not know what 'it' is, I cannot inform you as to which is best."

"That was rhetorical, you know." Jim sounded a little flustered, but he was smiling, which was just what Spock had meant to happen. The Vulcan smiled back, in his own discrete way.

Kirk paced in front of the panorama for a time, before lifting his head. His eyes were wide, soft, almost afraid, and a spike of pain hit Spock at the sight. He was at Jim’s side in an instant.

“Are you in pain? Were you injured?” He knew Jim had fought with Khan, but had the man gone to the med bay in the wake of those events? Spock found the prospect unlikely. Jim was known to delay his own needs to help others, even when it would be most logical to care for himself.

“I’m fine Spock, just - nervous.” The Vulcan realized it cost Jim a great deal to say that. The Captain might not be a Vulcan, but he had his reserve just the same, and there were some emotions he loathed to show. Kirk’s eyes moved to the ground, his hands still lifted in front of him, and for a moment it looked as if he might be praying

“I know this past year hasn’t been easy on us, or on our - relationship.” Jim began. His tongue ran over his lips, and Spock found himself zeroing in on it, for just an instant, before he took control and forced his eyes to meet Jim’s. The human still wasn’t looking at him, but was letting his gaze wander anywhere else instead. "It's been hard. But for my part, at least, I feel as if it's brought us closer."

"I... feel that as well."

Shocked brown eyes met his, Jim's face shooting upward. "I see. Well... that's... that's good." Clearing his throat, the Captain lowered his arms. "I guess I just... I wondered if you felt that, too."

"And the doctor as well?" Spock inquired, watching as Jim began to walk to the window. "You wish to know how he feels now, about your... relationship... as opposed to how he felt at the start of the mission?"

Jim was facing away from him. "Something like that."

"He cares for you. You already have realized this."

"I know. I mean to tell him - meant to tell him tonight."

Brow furrowing, Spock glanced away. "Then... why did you seek me out, as well?" When he looked up, Jim had turned back around, and had a handsome smile on his face.

"You know what? Maybe I should wait for McCoy." Perplexed, Spock watched Kirk stride back over, patting his shoulder as he passed. "Don't worry about it, Spock. Good night." Then he was out the door. Spock stood where he was, trying to reexamine the last few minutes for any hint of what the Captain might have been trying to convey. It was as if a puzzle had been placed before him, but he did not have all the pieces. Still, he thought determinedly as he turned to stride out the door, he would not be ignorant of Kirk's meaning for long. Whatever it was the Captain was thinking about, he would discover it soon.

-=-=-=-=-=--=-=-=-=-=-

It wasn't often that an away mission went smoothly or Leonard went a day on the Enterprise without feeling like tearing his hair out of his skull, but this particular mission was a doozy. Stuck in the Enterprise, being shot at by a planetary defense system, their away team missing, and an unruly ambassador with no sense of self-preservation trying to get them all killed.

He missed the Vulcan, Leonard realized, while he was listening to the idiot rant about proper diplomacy and the importance of their mission. Spock would've put this man right in his place with the carefully applied use of his irrefutable logic. It did come in handy sometimes, the doctor would begrudgingly admit.

Oh, Spock... the thought of the man, and his Captain, was enough to drive Leonard wild with worry. They had both been part of the away team, and Leonard hadn't stopped worrying about them since they missed their first check in. When he finally did hear from them, he felt no better: a society that waged war with computers? Holding their Captain and First Officer and even that whiny ambassador hostage? Leonard's blood went cold. Yeah, this was a mission made to turn his hairs grey.

Of course, with a little Jim Kirk luck, the Captain pulled a few ridiculous tricks and made a risky bet that payed off for all of them, and they all made it back onto the ship safely. Tingling from head to toe with relief, giddy with it, Leonard had rushed to be beside his friends, just to bask in the fact they were both alive, and present on the bridge.

"Captain, you almost make me believe in luck."

"Mr. Spock... you almost make me believe in miracles."

The words were light and teasing, almost overflowing with double-meaning, and in fact were so far fetched from their original topic that Leonard was sure there was a second, understated conversation going on that no one, not even Leonard, was privy too. The Doctor's good mood deflated a little as he watched them interact, joking and, in Jim's case, smiling. A small burst of bitter fire came alive in his chest and Leonard violently shoved it down.

Something about their manner... the way they were looking at one another, speaking to each other, even as Spock took mock offense at Jim's words and sauntered away, seemed different. They weren't closer to each other, no, but they seemed to be more at ease with one another, as if a wall had come down. Something had changed. Leonard's eyes leapt from one to another, even as he faked a smile, trying not to feel like his heart was crumbling in on itself.

So they were finally admitting it, realizing how much they actually cared about each other. Maybe Spock had even managed to dislodge the stick in his ass. Great. Bully for them. He was happy for them, really, his best friends falling in love. 

Bah. Leonard didn't even believe the lie in his own head.

-=-=-=--=-=--==-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

"Spock."

His friend looked up from their chess game, dark eyes half lidded, in a way that Jim would've called seductive had it been a look coming from a human. Jim found himself caught in those eyes, and when he went too long without speaking, Spock quirked an eyebrow. "Captain?"

"Sorry." Shaking his head, Jim leaned back and forced his eyes away. "I was wondering if I could ask you about... about the mission. About Lela Kalomi."

He saw the other man's shoulders stiffen, his gaze darkening further. "You may ask. I reserve the right not to answer."

Nodding, Jim agreed. "Of course." He quickly glanced over the chess board and made a half-assed move, much too concerned with the thoughts in his head to really focus on the game. 

It was late; they'd been playing for hours, much longer than usual, long after both would have toddled off to bed on a typical night. But it was hardly a typical night. There had been mutiny on the Enterprise, Paradise had been found and lost, and Spock himself had looked almost dazed and confused ever since the encounter in the transporter room. He seemed... distraught, almost, though hiding it well, and Kirk knew it had to do with those damnable parasites and Lela Kalomi.

Jim was worried, really worried, in the kind of way that twisted the heart and made it hang low, like he suddenly weighed three times as much as he used to. He felt heavy - weighed down with guilt, sorrow, fear. And it all had to do with Spock.

"I suppose I should just ask." He started with a sigh. "There's no tactful, easy way to bring this up." With one last nervous clenching of his hands, Kirk forced himself to meet Spock's steady gaze. "Did you mean it? When you said you'd... felt happy for the first time? With the spores?"

He sees the moment Spock realizes the reason for his inquiry - but instead of the withdrawal, the reticence, he expected to find, Spock gives a slow nod. "It was... freeing, in a way I had never experienced. I was no longer concerned about being in control, able to simply... feel. I have never felt that way - and never will again."

"Why, Spock?" Scooting closer in the chair, Kirk found his voice drifting toward pleading. But what in the world was he pleading for? "Why can't you feel that again?"

When he replied, Spock's tone was harder than before, almost a reprimand. "You certainly know why, Captain. Or have you joined the doctor in attempting to make me change to suit your human sensibilities?" For Spock the comment was almost snarky and for Kirk, that was an alarm bell. This was a conversation that could make or break them.

"No, that's not what I meant." Kirk floundered for a moment, struggling with the enormity of what he was trying to face down, Vulcan culture and all that came with it. "This - control you keep, how you hold yourself, it is your way. I wouldn't try and change you, but if it causes you so much heartache and pain..."

"As a Vulcan, Captain -"

"Oh stuff it!" Aroused by anger and fear, Jim leapt to his feet, pacing across his quarters, one hand on his hip. "Vulcans do feel, I know it, you know it - you just have different ways of showing it. You're a private species, and you don't approve of outward displays. Fine. But I doubt most Vulcans are literally so miserable about their condition they've never felt happy - logically, doesn't that mean there's something wrong?"

Spock leapt to his feet. "Of course, Captain." His features drawn tight, mouth thin, eyes ablaze with fury. His hand on the back of his chair was denting the metal. "There must certainly be. And since the most obvious difference between other Vulcans and myself is my human blood, then it is clear the fault is with me. Is that what you are inferring?"

Jim opened his mouth then stopped. There was something not right here, something about the way Spock got so mad, so quick, that hints that this is a sore spot. He'd known that trying to talk about this would probably piss the Vulcan off, but not like this. He thought of the transporter room, of all the horrible things he'd said, and realized that perhaps there was more to those wounds than he'd first thought. "Maybe. I'm not saying that because you're half human you can't act and be like a Vulcan, just - maybe you need something else, something... different. To accommodate both sides." The furious look wasn't fading, and Jim suddenly knew he was losing Spock and if he didn't change the direction of this fast, it'd be over, perhaps for good. "Spock, listen!" Kirk approached him, almost reaching up to touch his shoulders but holding back at the last minute. "You're half human - it's fact! And human needs are different from Vulcans. Have you ever thought that maybe you aren't happy because you've only been trying to be Vulcan, and not human?"

"Indeed, it does seem as if you have collaborated with the doctor." Spock spoke dryly, distantly. "It is of no consequence, Captain. I do not care for happiness. Vulcans do not -"

"Damn it, Spock are you even listening to me!?" Unable to stop himself, Jim reached up and shook the man, or at least tried to. He gripped Spock tight but only managed to move himself. It was like trying to shake a brick wall. "I'm not trying to insult your Vulcan honor, or - or tell you off! I just want to help. I want you to be happy."

"Are your wants of greater importance than mine?"

"Of course not, Spock!"

Brown eyes blazed, and Spock shook off Jim's hold. "Then why can you not comprehend that I do not want - I cannot want - to act as I did before, with Lela, to be that way outside the influence of the spores?"

"I'm not saying you should, Spock, damn it!" Stamping his foot in frustration, Jim threw his head around, gaze flying, trying to think of what to say. "I just... maybe there's merit to what you had down there, if you were so happy? If letting go of your control, be allowed to feel more openly made you happy maybe you should indulge that more often!"

"What do you propose? That I start to go cloud-gazing with my fellow officers, or ignore orders to go climb trees?"

"You are being purposefully obtuse." Jim spat, putting both hands on his hips. He stood between Spock and the door, and wasn't moving until they finally reached an understanding that didn't include coming to blows. "It wasn't the cloud-gazing, or the trees, or the spores or Lela that made you happy. It was the fact that the spores made you comfortable enough around Lela to feel free around her. Don't you see? You don't have to be emotional around the crew, or the officers, or anybody you don't want. Just - find some people you do trust and care about and find a way to open up with them." Jim sighed, feeling his exhaustion lower his voice and soften his tone. "Humans need that Spock, that sense of camaraderie and trust that means we can let go around people. If we don't have it, we go crazy, we're miserable. We need friends Spock."

At that, Spock's look turned to ice, his stiff posture somehow stiffening further. "Vulcans have no need for friends Captain. Vulcans have no friends."

Jim's heart shattered inside his chest, the pieces raining down into his stomach, where they weighed him down with grief. "I thought we were friends, Spock."

His supposed 'friend' said nothing. Spock blew past him like a gust of winter wind, frigid and uncaring, and the door sliding shut behind him seemed to echo like a vault door, sealing Jim inside with his misery.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=--=-=-

"Kill it, Captain, quick!"

Spock stood in a dimly lit tunnel, moving through the awkward, cramped space as fast as he could, feeling his heart beat rise. For a moment he considered forcing his body to calm, then realized that sparing the concentration for the action was simply unimportant. Jim's life was at stake.

Since their altercation after the events on Omicron Ceti III, Spock and Jim hadn't resumed their traditional behaviors towards one another. They were... civil, and on the surface, perhaps, no fault could be found. The Doctor was the only member of the ship who seemed truly cognizant of the difference, and had said as much to him in the turbo lift a few days before.

"I dunno what happened," McCoy had drawled, rocking on his heels. "But you two had a good thing going. Fix it. Lord knows we need more good things around here." With that ambiguous comment, he had left. It had been stranger - stranger still that McCoy had been so unusually distant before that. Their arguments had dwindled, their interaction dying down, and in turn the doctor's spirit seemed to have wilted. Spock could not understand it, and in truth, was so preoccupied with his disagreement and estrangement from Kirk that he'd thought little of it.

Spock did not know how to 'fix it'. He had thought that Jim was the one person on the ship who did not expect him to be what he could not. Yet, even the Captain found fault with his ways. How could he be friends with the man, knowing Jim was disappointed? That he wanted Spock to be something other than he was? No; he could not. 

A part of the Vulcan rose up in anger, lashing out. Telling him that he was purposefully misunderstanding Jim - that the Captain did not want Spock to change, he just wanted him to adapt, to be happy! This rebellious part of himself sounded suspiciously like his mother.

Spock rounded a corner and found Jim, standing with sweat pouring down his dirt-laden face, his phaser trained on the beast in the cave with him. Spock immediately lifted his phaser, ready to take a life, all for the sake of one man. Not his friend, Spock had said. He did not need friends. What arrogance. To pretend he was indifferent to Jim, only to throw his beliefs and all of Surak's precepts aside as soon as Jim was in danger.

"No, Spock!" Glancing to Jim, Spock saw his hand held up, restraining. Reluctantly, Spock lowered his arm, moved to Kirk's side, vibrating with the effort. Every moment he stood watching the deadly creature, only mere feet from Jim, he found himself thrumming with the pent-up desire to simply destroy it, to erase the threat to his dear one's existence.

Dear one...? Spock frowned slightly, forced the thoughts away. He could not deal with this, not while Jim was still not safe.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

It was long past time Leonard hit the hay, and he was only just hanging up his badge and clocking out, so to speak. Worn to the bone with exhaustion, the doctor sighed and rubbed his weary neck as he headed out of sick bay, trudging towards his room.

His mind drifted, wandered, as he struggled along. What a day. Saved the life of a silicon life form - cure a rainy day, indeed. A little smile came to his face then, and he chuckled as he ambled along. He was tired, sure, but it was a good tired. Satisfied and proud. 

Leonard was halfway into the turbo lift, more than ready to head to his room and crash, when the sound of the Captain's voice made him stop. What was Jim doing up? The man had been driving himself crazy working, and Leonard had told him he needed to sleep more. Frowning, Leonard stalked towards the man's voice, his own weariness forgotten.

He turned a corner down the hall, ready to storm right up to the man and give him a piece of his mind - and stopped. Jim wasn't alone. Spock was there, and the two of them were stand so close they were breathing the same air.

"I wasn't sure what you thought of me, anymore." Jim spoke, his tone lacking its usual confidence and bluster. The man was wringing his hands even, head down, nervous as a newborn foal. "After my - outburst in the transporter room... and our argument..."

"Jim." Spock - cold, withdrawn Spock - spoke with a warm, enveloping tone, like velvet, that wrapped around the ears and soothed hurts and pains. "I realized immediately what the purpose of your words had been at Omicron Ceti III. I realize you did not mean them. As for what you said later that evening, I... confess I was less understanding than I could have been. I was... frightened."

"Frightened? Of what?"

"Of... disappointing you." Spock spoke slowly, and it was his turn to appear nervous, lowering his head. Jesus H Christ, he was blushing a soft green, like summer grass. Leonard felt his own face flush and his heartbeat skyrocketed. "All my life on Vulcan I attempted to be as logical and... Vulcan in my behavior as I could, and failed. I disappointed my father, my teachers, brought shame upon my community, and invited the ire of my classmates. If I follow your invitation to... open myself, to another... I am afraid I will fail again. That where Vulcans found me to be too human.. humans will find me too Vulcan."

"You could never be too much of anything for me." Kirk admitted, then suddenly turned red, as if he hadn't meant to say it. "That is - you're my friend. I'll always care about you, and I'm not going to judge you for however you act. I just want you to be happy."

Spock nodded, slowly, and Leonard knew that look in his eye. It was calculating. "I realized this, in hindsight. Fear, like many emotions, compromises logic, and in that conversation my logic was quite certainly compromised." In any other situation Leonard would've paid to hear that. But here, now, it seemed much too personal, too wounding for the Vulcan to admit, for Leonard to ever have wished for it. And this is personal, deeply personal. Leonard realized he should've left five minutes ago but he was rooted to the spot, incapable of making himself move anywhere.

The two of them were practically magnets being drawn together but neither of them saw it, each floundering in indecision when it was clear they both wanted the same thing. Come on, Jim, Leonard thought, kiss him. He's a damn good kisser. 

"Spock - you realize that when I... what I meant by finding someone to trust, to be open with..." Jim licked his lips, and Leonard watched Spock's eyes trail after that movement. If the Vulcan had been a dainty blonde, Jim would've noticed the signs of passion and jumped him already. Stop being so dense, Captain! The doctor thought furiously, even as his heart fell further and further into his gut. "That person... I could do that, for you, if you want."

"You wish to take on the role that Lela Kalomi so briefly held?"

For a minute Leonard wasn't sure Spock understood what he was insinuating, but by the look in his eyes, he did. He knew exactly what he was saying. Kirk's stunned silence meant he understood it, too, and began to stammer an incredulous reply when he finally found his voice.

"Yes - yes I - that is... I'd love to." Jim swallowed, cheeks redder than apples, before he revealed a big smile. "I love you."

Spock's eyes widened, his nostrils flared, and the ghost of a smile appeared on his face. He didn't say the words - didn't need to. They were clear in his face, his eyes, in every line of his body, angled toward Kirk and standing so closely to him. The gravity they'd been fighting finally won - and they fell together, and kissed.

That finally snapped McCoy out of his hypnosis, and he turned and fled, trying to be as quiet as he could but not trying very hard. He ran in an empty daze through the halls to the med bay, stumbled in drunkenly, looking for all the world like a lost soul, a dying man.

Chapel happened to walk past. "Leonard, I thought you - oh dear god, what happened?" She was at his side in an instant and he didn't have the energy to shoo her away, not today. Their kiss was playing repeatedly through his head, searing itself into his brain, tempting, frustrating. What you will never have.

"Just - give me air." Finally he swatted her away, stumbling to his feet and rushing to his office, locking the door behind him. He wavered and weaved across the small space, gasping for breath, trying to sort out his head. Why was this affecting him so? He'd known it was inevitable, anyone alive knew it was inevitable, the two of them were made for each other. They were like those obnoxious childhood sweethearts who finished each other's sentences and wore each others clothes to sleep in, perfect and romantic and impossibly good - all those things in the world Leonard couldn't, wouldn't have, things he would soil and destroy if he touched them.

Finally the doctor fell into his chair, and the words penetrated his brain: Spock and Jim are together. And I'm alone. He fell, sobbing, into the crooks of his arms onto the desk, letting the deluge pour out in a rare show of agony, all the pent up pain releasing as that kiss continued flashing before his eyes, painful and beautiful, impossible to forget, painful to remember.


End file.
